


Harmony

by Ellie5192



Series: A Little Light Music [29]
Category: Major Crimes (TV)
Genre: F/M, final chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 12:41:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellie5192/pseuds/Ellie5192
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It’s the betrayal, thinks Andy, more than the action itself. He wonders how quick this will be to mend, and then dismisses the idea. Sharon Raydor forgives faster than anyone he’s ever met; her capacity to love is her greatest asset."<br/>Episode tag to Poster Boy. Final in the Little Light Music series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harmony

**Author's Note:**

> In anticipation of the new episodes, I present to you the last chapter of this saga. I won’t lie- I’ve been putting this off because I don’t want to see it go (plus exams were killing me, but really that’s just an excuse). If I find inspiration enough in season 2.5 perhaps there will be a sequel, so keep your eyes open.  
> Thank you so much for all the love and support this story has received. It’s truly been a marvellous journey to go on with you all.  
> As always, let me know what you think, and most importantly, enjoy. 
> 
> Takes place directly after the final scene of Poster Boy.

**_Harmony_ **

 

When enough time has passed that he thinks the meeting should be over, Andy quietly slips out of the very sombre bullpen and down the hall. Nobody is much surprised, nor do they follow him, and he suspects that they might know – or at least suspect – but that is one problem that’s going to have to wait. Provenza will hold them at bay if needed.

He sees them as he rounds the corner, and for a moment contemplates turning around and leaving again. They’re wrapped around each other in a way that can only be described as desperate, Sharon lightly shushing the boy as she strokes his hair and he cries into her shoulder.

Andy can’t tell if this is goodbye or blessed relief, but there are no secrets between them now, and maybe it’s just a matter of trust. Maybe they’ve started the process of rebuilding it.

He knows Rusty stubbornly refuses to cry in front of people, so it’s testament to their bond that he is allowing Sharon to comfort him; he’d probably be mortified to learn Andy is watching from a few feet away.

“It’s okay, Rusty. It’s okay” He hears her voice, soft in the boys ear. “It’s alright”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry” Rusty is chanting his apologies against her shoulder, perhaps unconsciously, his fingers clutching into her back, and Andy kind of understands. He’d hold on tight too, if he thought he was going to lose Sharon. For her part, Sharon just continues to whisper to him.

She looks up and notices Andy standing just down the hall, meets his eye, and then nods to signal that it’s okay for him to approach. He has no idea what to say, but he gets the feeling that this is not a goodbye, and so he can’t not walk up and offer his support.

He places a hand on Rusty’s shoulder and gently runs his hand down Sharon’s back once, conscious of where they are. The last thing they need is Emma walking in on a private moment and upending their delicate balance.

They stay standing like that almost long enough for it to become awkward, Rusty a mess in Sharon’s arms and Andy not quite part of the hug but still connected. Andy thinks the boy is perhaps too embarrassed to show his face; too full of shame over the actual tears and the actions that caused them.

But he finds his courage and pulls away from Sharon, turning slowly to look Andy in the eye, or at least close enough. More tears spring up in his eyes but he holds them back, and juts out his chin in a flimsy show bravery.

“I’m sorry” he chokes. Sharon keep a hand on his back, rubbing small circles. Though he understands why he did what he did, Andy can’t help but show some of his disappointment and confusion.

“Why didn’t you come to us, kid?” he asks, not unkindly but with a hint of accusation. He’s worried, and angry, and feels like the rug has been pulled out from underneath him. He can’t help but feel a bit hurt, too, like Rusty didn’t trust them enough to tell them the truth; didn’t have enough faith that they would fight for him, and right beside him. Mostly he’s just a bit scared.

He can’t imagine how the kid is feeling.

“I need to understand” continues Andy. He knows they’ve just spent a long time going over the details with Taylor and Emma, but he needs to know.

“I was scared” says Rusty, shrugging.

“Of what, the writer? Because we’re here to protect you, you know that”

“No, not scared of the writer. I was scared that if I told you, then Emma would have a reason to take me away. I was scared of where they’d put me- of never seeing Sharon again, or that my Mom couldn’t find me if I went away to some safe-house in San Diego and she came looking for me”

Andy doesn’t have the heart to tell him that his mother is never coming back, though he knows that deep down Rusty’s fear of loss and change is the greater factor here. For all his bluster and bravado, Andy has to remind himself sometimes that Rusty is still just a child who was forced to grow up, but a child no less.

“I was afraid of everything messing up when it’s just got so good… and now I’ve gone and messed it up anyway” He chokes again as he finishes and shuffles on the spot, wiping his eyes roughly and sniffling, refusing to meet their eyes. Andy thinks it’s very brave of him to be standing here and offering an explanation, but perhaps this was the tipping point; there was only two ways this was going to go.

“You’re not going anywhere, Rusty” says Sharon firmly, squeezing his shoulder. “I promised you that and I meant it” She turns to Andy to explain, “I managed to convince Rios and Chief Taylor that staying with me is still the safest option, given the contents of the letters and the fact they haven’t escalated”

“Yet” says Andy. He can’t help himself. He’s still in shock.

Sharon ignores him and continues, “We’ll have a detail with him at all times. It will be alright. There is nothing more we can do. None of the letters have been sent to my home, so for now we’re assuming his location is still unknown and that means we’re still safe. They’ll be patrols wherever he goes”

Andy looks at Rusty again as Sharon explains the details. The boy squirms under his gaze, but Andy is not ready to let this go; frankly this entire situation puts him on edge, and not just because he’s emotionally invested. It’s not the norm that so many letters are sent (is it eleven, twelve? A dozen. A dozen goddamn letters Rusty, why did you…) and for the behaviour to not escalate. Perhaps the writer is waiting to find out Rusty’s home location before striking, which puts Sharon in the firing line too, and that worries him more than she would be comfortable with. He knows that with patrols and her own training there is no safer place, but if it were up to him they’d all be entering into witness protection in Seattle to stay safe. (Better yet, he finds out who this creep is and pays them a late night visit, but Sharon would kill him, but it would be worth it, but he’d go to jail, but he doesn’t care).

“I know” says Rusty, still sheepish under Andy’s unrelenting eye. “I messed up. I’m… I just… I don’t know what else to say except I’m sorry”

“I get why you did it, kid” he says, an olive branch of sorts. “I just want to make sure you never do it again”

“I already promised Sharon-”

“And I want you to promise me. I want your word that if you hear anything, if you receive any more letters, or get any kind of threats, you tell us. We can’t protect you if we don’t know, okay?” He doesn’t add that Rusty could have potentially put Sharon at risk too, had the writer known where they live; he doesn’t think the boy could live with that kind of guilt on his shoulders. “I want to hear you say it”

Rusty takes a deep breath and finally looks him straight in the eye. “I promise. I promise I’ll tell you, and that I’ll keep telling you, if ever I feel in danger”

Andy just nods, and briefly looks at Sharon, who is still rather stricken but a bit amused as well now that they’re all calm and quiet. “Good. That’s good. And I believe you, kid, because I know you don’t break your promises”

Rusty nods rather emphatically. It’s his one constant.

“Now” starts Sharon, breaking the tension. “I believe there are a few people down the hall who also deserve an apology”

Rusty looks positively humiliated by the idea of facing the room full of trusted friends and finding a way to say sorry. He looks at Sharon with wide and fearful eyes, begging her to stop this, but she only nods towards the door to Major Crimes and twitches her hand in that general direction.

“What do I say?” he asks, his voice trembling. He has Buzz’s tear-filled expression burned into his mind, and he can’t shake the heavy feeling of disappointment that permeated the air when he walked into the murder room earlier. He doesn’t think there are words enough to express to his trusted allies why he did what he did; how sorry he is that it looks like he didn’t trust them with this. It’s not about trusting them, it’s about knowing that the system is imperfect; knowing that their hands could be tied and he’d be forced to go away against their wishes. It’s about being screwed over so many times that this should be no different. It’s about a lifetime of looking out for himself.

It was never about not trusting them. Not loving them.

“You say you’re sorry” says Sharon. “And you mean it”

He only nods, and then turns around, squares his shoulders, takes a deep breath and then starts walking, not once turning around. Andy feels rather proud of him for that. The two of them watch him go until they hear the Major Crimes door click behind him, and then turn and face each other.

If it weren’t for the fact they are standing in front of Taylor’s glass door in the middle of the hallway, he’d pull her into his arms. He has to put his hands in his pockets to stop himself, and she crosses her arms much for the same reason. She has a look on her face he can’t quite decipher; a mix of sadness and relief. And this on the back of a horrible suicide that she was witness too as well.

“We should go after him” she says.

“Can I come over tonight?”

“Please” she answers, nodding firmly, her voice both cracked and strong. She doesn’t need him, but it’s comforting to know that she wants him there. And they have some things to discuss too, given she’ll now be under lock and key with Rusty.

“I’ll bring my famous-”

“No. Just come. Don’t stop to grab anything, just come straight over”

And Andy can see that she’s not as strong as she’s pretending to be. In fact she looks one stiff breeze away from falling over.

“I have to go- make sure Rusty is okay” she says. She can’t meet his eye, and he doesn’t take that personally because perhaps putting her walls up is the only way she’s going to survive the rest of the day. “But tonight. Please”

“I’ll be there” he calls after her. And then she’s through the door and he’s slowly following behind, careful to regain his composure before walking back in front of the squad. He knows this has shaken her, but he is surprised by how much. In all reality the letters are not so bad as to warrant a full lockdown, though he is concerned that they are precursor to more extreme behaviour. But what he thinks has really shaken her – reduced her to this reticent woman – is the thought that Rusty still doesn’t trust her, after all this time. Still doesn’t think she’d do everything and anything to fight in his corner. Still doesn’t believe she loves him like her own son.

It’s the betrayal, thinks Andy, more than the action itself. He wonders how quick this will be to mend, and then dismisses the idea. Sharon Raydor forgives faster than anyone he’s ever met; her capacity to love is her greatest asset.

 

When he knocks on her door later that night, having come straight from work as promised, she opens it almost immediately and he quickly steps inside so that he can pull her into his arms like he wanted to all day. She fiercely returns his hug, her arms wrapping around his middle and her face buried against his neck, and he feels her sob just once. It’s not so much a cry as it is letting go of all her burdens in one breath; she heaves against him and just for a moment allows him to take the strain off her shoulders so she can swim out from the deep end and find her footing. The ground beneath her doesn’t feel solid anymore, so she’s trusting that he’ll keep her standing.

He does.

He holds her and rubs her back and rocks her gently for a few long minutes. He can smell the tell-tale smoke of slightly overdone toast, and figures nobody was particularly hungry, and given the silence Rusty must be in his room.

It’s a relief to think that it’s still his room.

“I’m here” he whispers into her hair. “We’ll get through this”

"God, this is terrible" she mutters against him. She pulls away just far enough to compose herself again, and instantly looks better. A hug and a soft word can do wonders, he knows, and he’s glad that he is the one to offer her that. “Thank you”

“There is no place I’d rather be” he replies earnestly, cupping her cheek. She smiles at him and leans up to kiss him, and they spend another long while just standing there with their lips touching, a firm pressure and a reassuring presence.

“I saw the patrol car out front” he says. “I made up some BS about needing to give you something from the office, and told them I might stick around because the kid was scared. They think I’m sleeping on your couch under duress” It’s only then that she notices the black overnight bag he deposited in the doorway behind him. “I wasn’t not going to stay”

“I hate this – feeling like I’m breaking curfew in my own home” she huffs.

“It’s not forever, Sharon”

“I know. I know that. I just feel like we’ve managed so well, and now this, and if they see you here every other night they’ll start talking, and the last thing we need is Taylor breathing down our necks about our relationship too, and God, everything is just up in the air-”

"No” he says suddenly, forcefully, almost angrily. He can see the wheels turning in her mind, and he doesn’t like it one bit. “No, you listen to me, and listen good. I'm not giving this up, no way” She shakes her head as though confused as to what he’s talking about, but then maybe that’s exactly where her thoughts were headed and here he is pre-empting that. “We have worked too long and too hard to let some idiot with a complex come in a wreck this” She purses her lips at how passionate he looks. “Also, and I probably should have said this first, I love you. I am in love with you, and I refuse to believe that you are not in love with me, so don't try to tell me otherwise. I'm in. All the way"

She lets out a shaky breath, not quite a sob, as she looks into his eyes. He is fiery in a way that he rarely is with her – tense like he’s staring down a particularly infuriating suspect. Except she can practically feel him tremble with contained emotion, and she can see that he’s perfectly serious about not giving a flying fuck about the rumour mill. He will jump fences and scale the walls, Romeo Romeo up the lattice work, if he thinks that will do any good. He will not give her up, and her fear about them disappears under the piercing gaze that is looking right into her soul.

“I love you” she whispers, completely overwhelmed. And god, if she ever needed proof that Andy is completely unlike her husband, this is it. Jack could charm his way out of death row and convince the warden to give him his car in the process. Jack could get by on luck and looks alone. Jack used to make her laugh and cry and roll her eyes and a very long time ago he could bring butterflies to her stomach. But Jack never made her feel like this.

She lunges into a kiss, her hands firmly on his cheeks as though to keep him there. His arms go around her back again and keep her against him, right in his space.

“We’ll be okay” he says against her lips. “We’ll catch this letter creep, and the kid will be fine, and you’ll be safe, and you and me are going to be okay”

“I believe that. I do. And yet I’m still afraid. Part of me is still listening to the wind, Andy, to see if someone is on the terrace”

“And they’ll have to get through me and you to get to the kid. I’ve seen you with a gun, honey, I don’t think we’re the ones who have to worry”

And she finally relaxes against him, grinning at his waggling eyebrow. She knows for a fact that her red beanbag is still hiding in the bottom of his draw; she found it once when she went digging for a stapler, back before they were together; she doesn’t doubt it’s still there now. Her stomach had fluttered when she’d seen it. It flutters still, to know that this man has seen so many sides of her and still loves her. Not many people in her personal life get to see the woman she is at work, with her rank and her presence giving her an air of seniority, and her confidence bringing out years of training. Not many people in her personal life would recognise the woman she is behind the power suits and while wearing a gun.

This man sees all that and more; loves her despite the radical difference between professional distance and private warmth.

“I love you” she says again, lighter this time, and less like she’s trying to hold him close. His answering grin is soft, like he’s not afraid that she’s about to kick him out. “Have you eaten?”

“No, I came straight here”

She smiles again at that, pulling away as she moves towards the kitchen, taking his hand to lead him with her. She’s feeling a little bit clingy tonight, after the case and the drama with Rusty. She likes the surety that his touch brings.

“I have toasties, or there’s leftover pasta from last night, or omelettes, or-”

“Sharon. Sit. I’ll make you a tea and fix us something. You just sit and chill. I’m here to help”

“Okay” she nods, sheepish, leaning against the bench. She knows she’s just trying to stay out of her head by staying busy. She has to remind herself to let him take over. “I wouldn’t mind an omelette though, if you’re so insistent on being helpful”

He smirks at her from his place by the kettle. “One omelette coming right up”

“Rusty had some toast, but he disappeared into his room and I haven’t heard from him. If I wasn’t so sure otherwise, I’d be checking to see he didn’t climb out the window and run away”

“You don’t want to check anyway?”

“After the day he’s had I doubt he’s going anywhere” she says. She pauses before adding, “And besides, there are safety screens on his window. They’d cause a loud noise if he tried to remove them”

Andy can only laugh. Beneath all the worry, he’s glad to see she hasn’t lost her sense of humour. There is hope yet.

He doesn’t doubt that the next few months will be a struggle. The increased security is only going to put everyone on edge, and it will certainly make it harder to be discrete outside the office. But he’s not letting this come between them. It took a long time and a lot of heartache for them to get to where they are now; he has the bullet wound to prove it. He’s never been happier than he has been in this last year, in the time they’ve taken to find their rhythm in this relationship. There are a lot of things he’s not proud of in his life, but this thing he’s got with Sharon is not one of them. This is one thing he got well and truly right, finally, and as far as he knows the same goes for her.

He’s completely and madly in love with her, and he refuses to let this be their undoing.

He feels her suddenly wrap her arms around him from behind, resting her cheek against his back, and while one hand dolls out a single sugar into her cup, the other come up to rest against her own, pressing them tight against his chest, right over his heart.

They end up working together to make the omelettes, Sharon grabbing ingredients from the fridge as Andy puts on the ridiculous apron (which she thinks he’s adopted as his own, just quietly) and takes over the actual cooking. It doesn’t take long before they’re sitting at the table with matching plates of folded egg and veggies, her with a cup of tea. Peace settles again, and the tension headache she’s been fighting all day slowly drains away.

This is what will stay strong, she thinks, as she smiles at him over the rim of her tea mug. Nights like this are the reason they will not falter, even when things are as bad as they are now. Because no matter what, they won’t give each other up, and they’ll stand together to fight for Rusty, and together they’ll all form their own little family. Immovable and unbreakable, and completely devoted to each other now that there are no secrets between them and trust has been restored. This will save them, this effortless motion together, a little bit different, but complementary instead of conflicting. This harmony in the face of so much doubt.

She reaches out and takes his hand as they slowly eat. He has no intention of letting go.


End file.
